


There is a Hole in my Chest

by Brynhildr



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fix-It, Friendship, Gen, POV Phil Coulson, Post-Avengers (2012), Protective Avengers, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 08:31:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10590270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynhildr/pseuds/Brynhildr
Summary: Aka Tony and Phil have more in common than they think





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I needed some fuzzy feelings and I've been reading too many antagonistic!Tony and annoyed!Phil stories. This was my response.

"There's a hole in my chest, you know?"

The words were soft spoken, tired, and emotional.

"Well, of course you know, you wrote about it in my file, but everyone forgets that it's an actual hole. Because it's got a plug. A very expensive, one of a kind, hasn't killed me yet kind of plug."

There was a pause, some rustling, then a sigh.

"Thanks for that, by the way. I don't think I really ever thanked you properly."

 There was a bit of muffled laughter.

"And here I am, thanking you when you can't respond. I really suck at this. JARVIS is the one that found you. Pep wanted to send flowers to your cellist or family or something. It took a week. Sorry. I should have-"

The voice stopped. 

"Anyway, I wanted to make sure, before I told the others, I didn't want to- you know Barton is really messed up. He blames himself for the helicarrier mess. He and Romanov went to Iowa. What the heck is in Iowa? They should be here in a few hours. Romanov was driving them to an airstrip. And, what the hell? Why did they put you in Boston. I never would have looked- well maybe that was the point."

There was another pause. The silence stretched for a growing number of minutes.

"So, yeah. I've got a hole in my chest. It's really deep. I can't reach- Pepper had to- it's not pretty. It will never fully heal. The metal next to the skin- it's not- This version feels the best out of all of them so far, but it presses against- they had to cut my ribs open. Breathing isn't so great anymore. Or you know moving around at all. You understand that."

The voice stopped again for a while. 

"I haven't told anyone else. Bruce- I don't want him running, and he would. I can't get a hold of Rogers. His bike is in Virginia, but his phone is off. JARVIS is tracking  him down. Pepper is-she's been a mess since you- so I was going to wait until you had recovered enough- if you died now she would never forgive you."

The voice stopped again. There was a creaking sound and the whisper of clothing brushing against itself. The voice became softer, more insistent.

"You are going to live, Agent. If I can live with this mess in my chest, then you will get through this. I checked over your charts. You're healthy, I mean, overall- you've got strong bones, low cholesterol, no chronic diseases. You're physically fit. I was an alcoholic, caffeine driven, sleep deprived, former drug addict- I did that to myself. I'm still here. If I could survive the cave, you're going to survive this."

A rustle and creak of a chair. A deep breath, then a more chipper and louder sounding chatter began.

"So I started working on the renovations, Pepper was pretty mad about the Loki sized crater, but I was thinking of maybe keeping it as an art piece. Maybe in the lower lobby, just cut it out and install it on the wall. That would probably get vetoed. But I'm making floors. I've started on Bruce's because he needs to feel safe, and SHIELD can't give him that safety-no offense- but I'm going to need input on your floor. I was thinking about a modern sleek look, but now I'm leaning toward old school oak paneling. We'll need to have a better medical center. Maybe a floor or two- I'm putting your floor next to Natasha- maybe Barton- but I wanted to make him a range- maybe I could make the range on the floor below for everyone-would you want an office on your floor-no, let's put it on a separate floor..."

The voice faded out slowly as he sank deeper into sleep.

.....

He woke up on a Tuesday. It wasn't an exciting awakening. First he felt a deep ache in his chest and back. The roughness in his throat was indicative of intubation. Then the sharp pain that meant Bad Injury. Then the fuzziness that was the Good Drugs in his system.

The soft murmur of voices set him at ease. He heard Romanoff's melodic alto, Barton's grunts of displeasure, and Banner's soothing baritone chuckle.

The tingling in his left fingers gave way to a feeling of gentle pressure.  Large hands, callused and rough, riddled with the ridges left by scars.  He squeezed this hand gently and smiled when the hand squeezed back. His eyelids peeled back slowly, like brittle pages stuck together from the damp. Stark was seated next to him in an uncomfortable looking plastic hospital chair. He looked like he hadn't slept in a few days and his clothes were a rumpled mess. 

He glanced around the room. Natasha and Clint were seated against the corner walls opposite the door, engaged in a low conversation. Bruce was flipping through a paperback by the shuttered window. Steve was asleep in his chair next to the door, shield resting under his hand.

*Safe. Sleep. You are safe. We are keeping watch. Safe.*

The rhythmic tapping in his hand slowly coalesced into words in his mind.

He blinked.

Slowly, very carefully, Phil tapped his index finger against the engineer's palm.

*Tony. Thank you.*

Tony smiled.

"You're welcome, Phil." 

Phil settled back into sleep. He was safe.


End file.
